Turning Page
by Anera527
Summary: WHI for Forever, Part 2. Alice, having escaped the house, is still badly beaten but lives. The child she carries does not. Led by guilt and grief Joe his wife's would-be murderers and walks a fine line between justice and murder himself by doing so.
1. Chapter 1

**Turning Page: Chapter 1**

A/N: This story was my Nano challenge for the month of November 2017. Due to real life events I hadn't been able to work on the story for quite some time but now I can start posting it. The majority of it is already written, and all I have to do is type it up.

Dedicated to firstly my older sister, and secondly to all of the women who have lost a child in their lives, and who found the strength to continue on despite the pain and hurt.

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"It _takes strength to live through suffering, and it takes courage to observe it."_

C.S. Lewis

 **In the distance,** the house was burning.

Dark black smoke billowed upwards like a beacon, rising for dozens of feet above the tops of the surrounding trees, its acrid scent bitter to the nose and throat. A warning, it seemed, but whether it was to draw witnesses in or drive them away was unclear.

The buckboard that rolled across the uneven grounds was speeding towards the former, the horses pulling it practically flying as they made their way close to where the little yellow house was hastily burning down to its foundation. The roar of flames was deafening as they chewed through dry wooden walls, an awful sound that set the heart to racing- but the driver of the buckboard never heard it.

"Alice!"

Joe Cartwright's frantic shout was barely discernible above the crackling of the fire and he was up and off the wagon before either the Ponderosa's foreman Candy or his younger brother Jamie could stop him. Terrified he sprinted for the front door of the house, unable in his shock to comprehend that it was disappearing in flames, and when attempting to enter that way didn't work he raced for a window, ceaselessly screaming his wife's name.

Candy reached him just as his hands began to tear apart one of the burning window frames. "Joe! Joe, don't! You can't go in there, you'll kill yourself!" Even with his sturdiest pulling Candy still felt Joe straining against his hold, pulling forward with a strength the wiry foreman could not match. Jamie, panting from his sprint from the buckboard, reached his brother's side in time to prevent Joe's entrance into the house by catching hold of an arm and digging in his heels. "Joe, please! Stop!"

The fire crackled hungrily, growling like a lion in hiding, warning now to stay away. But Joe refused to back down. The flesh of his palms was quickly scorching where they were tearing apart the window frame but he paid the pain no heed.

Glass glittered beneath Candy's boots as he, too, dug in his heels to stop his friend. God, Joe was strong! Knowing it was useless to fight anymore and hating himself for what he was going to have to do he reared back, letting go of his friend with one hand, and when Joe strained forward again Candy balled his hand into a fist and he cuffed the rancher hard on the back of the head.

Joe dropped immediately, stunned by the unexpected blow, and he pulled Jamie down with him. Frightened by his brother's loss of control Jamie still clung to the arm he had managed to grab, his legs entangled with Joe's. He felt the tense body beside him jerking with silent, ferocious sobs . Candy crouched beside the redheaded boy, his face white with horror but his eyes clear.

"Get him up, Jamie!" he shouted over the roar of the flames.

As Jamie reached to do just that he noticed the blood. Bright red and still shining dully as it dried in the dirt it was sprinkled like water droplets; the shards of glass were coated in it.

It led as a trail away from the burning house.

"Candy!" he cried. "Candy, there's blood here!"

"I see it!" the wiry foreman exclaimed, looking wildly at the trail leading to the nearest copse of trees. "Joe, someone's out here injured. C'mon, get up. Get up!" But there was no way of cutting through the grief that had his friend caught so tightly and he was too afraid to let go of his hold on Joe, worried that shock would drive Ben's last living blood son into the burning house and into an early grave. "Jamie-"

The boy, thank God, was holding himself together. "I'll go."

There was no other option than to send a sixteen-year-old out to discover what had made the blood trail. Candy could only hope that he wasn't sending Jamie into a nightmare worse than the one he was currently in but the boy was up and running across the open grounds before the foreman could say anything.

What the hell was happening?

Beneath his hold Candy felt the muscles in Joe's back tense as if he was preparing to jump and he was only just able to pin him to the ground before Joe tried to stand again. "Don't, Joe!"

"Candy!"

Jamie's cry cut through the roar of the fire even from so far away and the foreman twisted around to find the redheaded teen standing at the edge of the trees.

"Joe, come quick! Alice! Alice is over here! She's alive!"

Candy's heart seemed to jump and then stop, utterly taken aback by Jamie's words. Luckily, Joe had heard them too however dimly. He struggled to lift his head and turn in the direction of his younger brother. Candy grabbed hold of his arm again and pulled him up, allowing his old friend to lean on him. Jamie was still frantic over by the copse of trees, his face a sickly pale, and that served to frighten the Ponderosa's foreman more than anything else. They reached the boy's side and slid to an unsteady halt, the sight before them stopping them in their tracks. Joe moaned deep in his throat.

Alice's crumpled form lay broken and bloodied in the grass; bruises littered her pale skin and blood stained her chin from a split lip and bleeding nose, and her right ankle was twisted an awkward angle. Her face was such a myriad of bruised and swelling flesh she was barely recognizable, and Candy feared the worst.

Then Joe broke the frozen moment by rushing forward, adrenaline giving him the strength to reach her side. He was sobbing again and his hands were shaking so badly that he almost couldn't turn her over. "Alice? Alice-" Her name was all he could choke out but it was enough. Feeling his touch, the young woman stirred. Her eyes never opened- Candy wasn't sure if they physically could what with the swelling- but she was clearly in pain. She whimpered and when Joe shifted her she uttered a quick breathless cry that ended in a strangled gasp.

"Joh-" His name was garbled and slurred but still she tried to speak.

"Don't talk, sweetheart, just lay still. We're gonna get you to Doc's-" Joe's gaze fell on Jamie. In the background he could see the dancing of flames. The house... "Jamie, get the buckboard. Bring it here." Short sentences were all he could manage through the tightness in his chest. His voice cracked with strain. "Fetch one of the saddle blankets and bring it here."

Candy shook his head as the boy rushed off to do as instructed. "Joe, if she's moved we might kill her." Wasn't that the rule with men run over in a stampede: not to move them? They couldn't begin to guess the extent of her injuries.

"Just help me." The look on Joe's face promised a left hook to Candy's jaw if the foreman dared to fight him on this, and ultimately Candy had no choice but to concede defeat. It was nearly a three hour ride on horseback to the Ponderosa to Virginia City and longer than that if a body wanted to reach this place. From the looks of it, Alice may not have that long.

"I'll run ahead, get one of the hands to go get Doc Martin-"

"Get Pa and bring him to Virginia City. I'm not waiting for Doc to come to us."

 **It was the red on Alice's skirts** that scared Jamie the most as they rode the buckboard to town. Candy had stayed long enough to place Alice on the wagon and then he was off, running towards the Ponderosa to find Ben Cartwright. Joe was unable to tear himself away from his wife so Jamie climbed into the seat and turned the horses in the direction of Virginia City. The house was still alive with flame as the infrastructure was eaten away and nearing the edge of the open plain a horrible groaning had risen in the air as the structure of the building fell into itself.

"Watch the road, Jamie," Joe ordered sharply where he sat holding Alice's right hand; her left was swollen and useless, and her ribs were either bruised or cracked. It wasn't often that Jamie heard his brother raise his voice to him and guiltily he turned back to face front again, ducking his head as if he was going to be smacked.

The look in Joe's eyes frightened him. "You doin' okay, Joe?"

The strained silence that came from the back of the buckboard was more colorful a reply than any words would have been. Stupid! Jamie cringed again, hating the awful question he'd blurted out; he could only imagine the look Joe burned into his back in response.

They were only a few miles away from Virginia City and Doc Martin's office when Alice, semi-lucid, began to stir again. Her whimpers and sobs tore at the boy just as much as Joe's attempts to comfort her did, and then everything seemed to freeze as he heard his brother's sharp intake of breath.

"Joe?"

"Get us to Doc Martin's now, Jamie!" The fear in Joe's voice seemed almost sensed by the team of nervous horses, who picked up even more speed barely after Jamie urged them on. He glanced over his shoulder only once in time to find Joe lifting Alice's skirts with suddenly wet, scarlet-painted hands.

Doc was in his offices, thank God, but the entirety of the stay was a blur for Jamie. Alice was ashen and deathly still when they carred her inside, and he couldn't forget the awful red stains that were quickly spreading over her skirts and undergarments. Nor had he ever seen Joe so frantic except once before, and he quickly decided that a frightened Joseph Cartwright was a sight he never wanted to see again. Doc's grim face as he closed to door to his surgery didn't help settle his nerves either. So he sat quietly in a chair and watched as Joe's burned hands were wrapped in gauze.

And then came the moment when the white-haired doctor had exited the surgery, leaving the door open, and Joe had practically barged in to see his wife unmindful of all warnings.

"Joe- you shouldn't see her yet, she's still weak-"

"She was bleeding inside! She was beaten, and I- I thought... she didn't bleed out-"

"It wasn't all blood, Joe." Paul Martin's face was lined with grief and, worse, compassion. "The beating she took- it tore her inside. Her womb."

Joe went white. Inside the room lay Alice's unmoving form partially covered in a crisp white sheet; beside her lay a small bundle of bloodied grey blankets. It took Jamie longer to put the pieces together than it did his older brother, and by then it was too late to stop him- the boy was simply too small to stop him, and Doc Martin didn't have Candy's wiry strength.

With shaking fingers Joe lifted the corner of the blanket up just as Jamie called out again,

"Don't, Joe-"

Too late. His color bypassed white to grey. "My god," he choked out.

Two seconds later, his knees buckled.

 **Feeling far older** than his sixty-plus years, Ben Cartwright looked up as Paul stepped into view. His old friend met his gaze with sorrowful dark eyes and Ben feared the worst.

"Paul-?"

"Sit back down, Ben. Both Joe and Alice are doing as well as can be expected."

His heartbeat was loud in his ears and painful in his chest- or maybe it was merely his own sense of grief that was making it difficult to breathe. He let the open unmasked pain ask his questions.

Paul, thank God, understood. "Alice was beaten- brutally. A broken wrist and ankle, two cracked ribs, three bruised... there was a tear in her stomach that I've closed but... I'm afraid, Ben, that the worst of it centered around her midriff. Her womb."

"I- was afraid," Ben said carefully, slowly, "that I feared... when Jamie spoke of the blood..."

"Alice suffered a miscarriage. No child could have survived such a severe beating. If she makes it through the night-"

"What are you saying, Paul?"

"What I'm saying, Ben, is that that young woman may not live to see tomorrow. She's young but she's not strong, not like your Marie was. But if she does make it, I'm afraid it will be nigh impossible for her to become pregnant again, much less carry a child to full term."

It was one of the cruelest punches to the gut the elder Cartwright had ever felt. No children. "Joseph. Does Joe know?"

Paul nodded. "He'll need your help, old friend. I'm afraid if he doesn't step back and let himself rest then he may suffer a heart attack. He's received too many shocks today."

Jamie had tearfully explained to Ben about Joe's collapsing in Paul's surgery, but he had not seen his son anywhere since he'd arrived thirty minutes before. "There's something you're not telling me, Paul."

The grief in the doctor's face deepened. "Come with me, Ben." He led the way out of the open waiting rooms and through the back rooms into the back alley. There Ben saw his son seated against the wall of the building, holding something.

"Joseph?"

The sound of his name barely made him stir; the head of unkempt grey curls remained bowed. A small bundle of grey blankets was held protectively against his chest.

Ben knelt beside him. "Joseph. Joe, look at me, son."

The touch of his father's hand on his shoulder finally made Joe stir, and with difficulty he lifted his head to meet Ben's gaze. The dazed grief that had settled in his features had seemed to have aged him ten years, and there was a vacancy there in his eyes that made the older man's breath catch. "It woulda been a girl, Pa," he croaked.

The simple sentence brought tears to Ben's eyes but his son didn't notice. "Joe, you need to let Paul take care of you. You need to rest so you can be there for Alice when she wakes up."

"Alice..."

"That's right, Joseph. Alice."

Joe's gaze dropped to the bundle in his arms. "I can't," he whispered. "I can't, I can't- if I see Alice I'll have to tell her about the baby, and I can't-"

A tear broke from Ben's hold. "I'll hold the baby," he lied, reaching out. "Just let the doctor help you, son." There was absolutely nothing he could do for Alice or the child that she and Joe had so cruelly lost, but he could sense that his son was fraying at the seams. Joe gave up his burden only reluctantly but when Ben passed it to the waiting doctor and realization struck, irrational fury twisted Joe's features and he pushed off of the wall. "You son of a-"

Ben grabbed hold of him by the shoulders and pinned him down against the building again, grabbing hold of the clenched left fist that had started to fly at his face. "Joseph!" The shout actually made his son jump- he could feel Joe's body trembling beneath his hands, taut like a rope and ready to snap. "Joe, look at me, son, look at me! That's it, look at me."

"Pa?"

"I've got you, son. I'm here. I've got you."

The reassurance was all Joe needed to hear. The fight and tension fled his body as quickly as it had come and he fell back limply against the wall with no strength left anymore to even lift his head again. Ben caught him before he could slide into the dirt and held his son close as Joe began to cry again, great racking sobs that tore at his throat and shook them both as he mourned for the daughter he had lost. Burying his face in his father's shirt he cried until he couldn't anymore and exhaustion finally pulled him into slumber. Ben waited until he felt the last of the tension leave his son's shoulders before he carefully leaned up against the building himself, drawing Joe's head into his lap. There Paul found them thirty minutes later, the father gently stroking his son's curls back from his forehead, and when Ben looked up it was with a tear-stained face.

"Help me carry him inside, Paul."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

 **Joe woke with a start** to find himself in a darkened room, laid out on a comfortable bed with his boots missing and the top buttons of his shirt undone. His eyes felt dry and gritty and his throat ached like it always did following a time of tears. The pressing weight of grief choking him had not abated from where it had settled on his chest even after releasing so much of his sorrow in Pa's presence. He had no clear memory of when his pa had finally found him; all he remembered was grief and a choking fury, and then Pa's arms were around him and his fingers were stroking Joe's hair, and then sleep had overtaken him.

Weak. Alice was the one who had been beaten, but it was he who had needed solace in his father's arms. He was nothing if not weak.

Guilt and worry made him climb to his feet, his need to check on his wife overwhelming. His pa was asleep seated in one of the chairs in the room and he did his best to keep his footsteps as silent as possible as he slipped out into the hallway. The door to Doc's surgery was on the other end of the building but he was readily familiar with the layout of the rooms and needed no light to guide him.

The door was open when he reached it, allowing him to see that his wife still lay uncovered on the table, the bruises on her fair skin a horrid map of violence and abuse. Doc had washed away the blood and used ice to try and reduce the swelling to her face but she was still swollen enough to hide her delicate features.

Her chest rose and fell, which brought him a small comfort.

Her right wrist was splinted so he kneeled on the floor and took hold of her left hand, twining his fingers with hers as best as he could with the bandages wrapped around his burnt flesh. She stirred only a little before settling into silence again but he spoke aloud anyway as if she would be able to hear him.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there, sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I was supposed to be there to protect you but I wasn't..."

She stirred again uneasily and he felt her fingers tighten around his own slightly. Her lips moved.

"Alice?"

It was impossible for her to be awake, it had to be, but he watched as her head moved weakly, fighting the medication the doctor had given her. Her mouth moved again and this time, prepared to listen, he could make out a word. "Men... men."

Men. "What men, Alice?"

She whimpered. "House..."

Men at the house. Men who had beaten her and therefore killed their child. The anger he had felt dully the last few hours exploded into full flame, fueled by the fresh grief that had so paralyzed him, and his fingers compulsively tightened around hers.

If his grip hurt her she made no sign of it, no sound to let him know. Her head moved more towards him. Her voice was broken and a mere whisper as she tried to continue. "John. John.. shot..."

John? John Harper, Alice's older brother, the one who had through no intention on his part first brought Joe and Alice together. A gambler and a heavy drinker John had lost all of his money in a lengthy poker game and his behavior eventually led to Alice cutting ties with him and turning him out. The last either Joe or Alice had heard of him, he'd been settled in Carson City trying to stand on his own two feet. Was Alice delirious? A tear was sliding down her temple into her hair which he gently wiped away with his thumb. "It's all right, sweetheart." The blatant lie nearly choked him as it slipped from his mouth- nothing was all right now, and he wondered if it would actually ever truly be again. He knew Doc Martin believed that there was a chance that Alice wouldn't make it through the night. The tear in her womb had caused such a loss of blood that her skin was still cool to the touch and it could be very easy for her to slip away.

She didn't settle, despite his soothing. "Dead," she gasped out. "John-"

A shiver of suspicion made him frown as he listened. She believed her brother to be dead. But they'd found no body at the house, and they had not received prior news that John would be visiting them.

"Joe, leave her be." Doc's voice spoke softly in the darkness but there was an edge to it that begged to be heeded. "Let her rest." The few hours of sleep that Joe himself had managed to catch had done practically nothing to help him: with his wrinkled clothing, unkempt hair, and his red-rimmed eyes he struck a very sorry sight indeed. "You need to rest some more yourself, young man." The doctor felt more strongly towards Joe than he did for a lot of his other patients scattered around this city- he had been the one to deliver Joe nearly thirty-one years before and he had lost count of the numerous times he had been called upon to heal Little Joe's hurts over the intervening decades.

He had been there for all of the family's hurts, in fact. He had seen to Ben following Marie's last tragic ride, and he'd helped both Ben and Joe following Hoss's drowning only a year ago. In that time he'd seen Ben's youngest son grow from a feckless child to a rowdy, impetuous teenager, and then finally to the responsible, still happy-go-lucky young man that he was today standing as he was running the Ponderosa at his father's side.

If there was one thing, however, that had not changed at all with the years was Joe's infamous stubbornness, and he showed it as he stood from Alice's side and turned towards the open door. His mouth was set in a thin line and there was an undisguised thread of anger in his voice as he replied.

"I don't have time to rest, Doc. I've got a sheriff to see."

 **Clem Foster had been the deputy** for Virginia City for close to seven years now and he had only just taken over the role of sheriff from Roy Coffee. He had known the Cartwrights for the same amount of time and he had grown close to Ben and his sons even if his relationship with Joe had started out rocky. With a deep sigh, Clem removed his hat and opened the door to Virginia City's jail having just come back from the Ponderosa and then the undertaker's.

"Sheriff Foster."

Clem jumped and rocked back on his heels, then slapped his hat against his leg. "Darn it, Cartwright, you know better than to startle the lawman like that!"

There was no hint of humor on Joe's face or in his voice as he replied, "There's no law that says I'm not allowed to wait for the sheriff to get back." He was seated in the chair in front of the desk, dressed in a rumpled grey shirt and pants and he looked the most unkempt Clem had ever seen him. His hands were heavily bandaged.

Clem motioned with his hat as he walked to his seat on the other side of the desk. "You're not even armed."

Briefly Joe's attention shifted to his left leg where normally his holster was tied down. "Didn't think I'd be needing this morning," he answered coldly, alluding all too clearly to what had happened that had prevented him from grabbing his firearm.

Clem sighed as he sat. "I'm sorry, Joe-"

"Don't be sorry, Clem, just tell me what you've found out."

The tone was short and angry, wanting no second wasted on sympathies. Clem took in the haggardness of Joe's face and the shadows under his eyes and found no place to argue. "The house is lost," he admitted heavily. "There was nothing we could do except keep the fire contained. Likewise there was nothing salvageable in it, either."

"You've brought something in, though, Clem. I heard a wagon."

"We found a body in the wreckage, Joe. Burnt beyond recognition but we believe it was a man. Right now I couldn't begin to tell you any possible identities-"

"I can." Realization was painted over Joe's face as he spoke. "John Harper. Alice's brother."

Startled, Clem blinked and frowned. "No one's seen him in weeks!" he protested. "What proof do you have that the body we've found is his?"

"Alice was conscious earlier today. She spoke about John. 'John shot' she said. I thought she was just out of her head but now..."

Clem digested the rather unsettling news without comment. The information on John's sister was more interesting to him now. "Is your wife...?"

"Still alive." Again the response was clipped and offered no chance for pity or apologies. There was something flinty in Joe's eyes that the sheriff did not like.

"Cartwright," he began slowly, deliberately, "if you've got any ideas of goin' after the men who did this-"

"How could I do that, Clem, when I don't even know where to start looking for them?"

"Well, don't start getting any notions about tracking anyone down. Let the law handle this." Clem's voice held a warning to it but Joe remained stone-faced and resolute. For a very long moment the two of them kept their gazes locked, seeing who would back down first, and then Joe rose from his chair.

"Thank you, Sheriff," he said tightly, and Clem could easily hear the real meaning in his words: thanks for nothing. He said nothing more and didn't respond in any way to Clem's stiff farewell, shutting the jail door closed behind him with a bit more force than necessary.

Clem sat back helplessly in his seat, abruptly drained from the conversation. Unease curled in his stomach. He had been a lawman long enough to recognize the look of a man on the warpath; he'd seen strong and level-headed men lose all sense of wisdom or common sense in the face of such awful tragedy. Too often the thirst for vengeance would lead too many of those same men straight to prison or, worse, a hangman's noose.

Joe Cartwright would easily land himself in the latter if he took matters into his own hands.

 **It was another twelve hours** before Paul Martin declared that Alice had successfully made it through the most dangerous part of her initial recovery. The news did nothing to reassure either Joe or Ben of anything- yes, she had survived for now but there were her broken ribs and tears in her midriff that signified a long, difficult road to recovery. She was looking at almost eight weeks alone in bed for her ribs, never mind the rest of her injuries. Joe wasn't going to believe that Alice was really recovering until she looked him in the eyes and told him so himself. Ben remembered Paul's warning about the young woman's lack of strength, and he had to privately agree with the doctor. Alice was a shy, soft-spoken soul who never so much as raised her voice to call for supper, a woman who deflected attention rather than attracted it.

How would she handle the loss of her unborn child? She woke briefly but fell back into oblivion just as quickly, managing only to squeeze Joe's hand with hers before slipping away again.

Later that afternoon, once Paul assured them that Alice would be okay, Ben took Joe in the buckboard and together they rode out to the Ponderosa, following the woodland path to the lake where two tombstones rested. One was worn and old and covered partially with moss- Marie Cartwright's grave, her final resting place for nearly twenty-five years. Both father and son frequently visited the grave and visited with her, seeking solace or peace, and it was a familiar- if saddening- sight. The tombstone to Marie's left, however, still served to steal the breath from both of their lungs. The mound was still fresh and spring grass had only just begun to grow on it, and the name on the stone was painfully clear.

Looking at it now, Joe felt his throat tighten. It had been nearly a year since Hoss had died but the pain of his loss was still sharp, and there was not a day when he didn't miss his older brother.

Ben followed his gaze and sighed. "I think about the good times, son," he said softly. "Your brother's laugh, his compassion... his love for his family."

There was no reply. Joe didn't wait for his father to halt the buckboard completely- a bit unsteadily he slid to the ground and looked up at Ben. "You didn't have to come here with me."

"No one should be alone doing this, Joseph. You know that." The horses tossed their heads as he climbed down himself, watching with a heavy heart as his son grabbed hold of the same small bundle of blankets from the evening before and carried it over to the two graves there. Joe kneeled between them and softly introduced his daughter to his mother and brother, the words too quiet for Ben to hear clearly as he pulled out two shovels from the back of the wagon.

The grave they dug that day was no bigger than a foot-wide hole; there was no coffin, no service. The couple had not had a chance to announce their pregnancy, and both father and son had mutually agreed that a quiet send-off was best.

The child had not had a chance to live at all. Ben read from his well-worn Bible the verses that were customarily read at a proper Christian burial but, Heaven help him, all he could think of was one verse from Ecclesiastes: _'Yea, better is he than both they, which hath not yet been, who hath not seen the evil work that is done under the sun.'_

He was concerned for Joe the most at the moment, despite Alice's severe injuries. Since last night Ben had not seen his son shed a tear at all; his expression was stoic as they worked and when finally the grave was filled he sat beside it with dry, flat eyes.

As they headed back towards Virginia City, however, leaving the lake shore behind them, Joe suddenly grabbed hold of Ben's arm. "No, Pa. I need to see it. I need to see our house." His gaze was riveted towards the direction of the glade where the little yellow house had stood and despite Ben's objections he refused to ride away without seeing it first.

The blackened husk that remained rocked Joe back physically in his seat. For a moment his expression cracked apart, revealing a flash of agonized grief, but very quickly anger drew its curtain over his hurt. Watching him, Ben recognized the rising heat in Joe's eyes, the set mouth, and realized just how much his son could hate.

"Joseph-"

"Don't, Pa." The words were sharp, a veiled warning not to interrupt the quiet moment as Joe slid down the side of the buckboard and onto solid ground once again. His steps were steady and sure as he made his way closer to the edge of the burned out ruins, walking in a slow circle around them. His attention was focused solely on the ground now, however, searching for something. Ben was just preparing to call him back so that they could leave this tragedy behind them when Joe stopped on the other side of the house and crouched there.

"Joe?" Perplexed and unsure, he climbed down from the buckboard and made his way to where his son was. Shattered glass, sprinkled a rusty red, lay there between Joe's feet.

"Alice said there were men at the house, Pa," he said quietly. "They wanted to kill her. She got out somehow, escaped... but not far. Clem said he didn't find anything confirming it when they inspected but I know this is where Alice got out. She was in our room, this was the direction it was facing." He shook his head. "She must have smashed the window, she has cuts on her wrists."

"You saw Clem?" Ben's attention was abruptly fixed on one part of Joe's statement despite the pain in his son's voice. "When?" Again there was no reply, but that was answer enough. "Joe, you need to give the sheriff time to do his job. You know it will take Clem time to find something out but you must be patient-"

"Pa, while I stand off to the side and wait for the sheriff to do anything, the men who did this are riding off free right now." Joe didn't even bother to look over at his anxious father, his attention fixed once again on the husk of the burned out house. "I don't have time to wait for Clem."

"Joseph." Ben's voice was sharp, raised in a way it hadn't been in several years. Stooping, he grabbed hold of his son by the arm and pulled him to his feet. Making sure Joe's attention was fully on him, he said, "You have gone after men before, when you believed me murdered. You did not kill then. You must promise me you will not do so now."

"Could you ask that of me, Pa," Joe retorted, "if it had been Mama who was attacked? Or if it had been Adam or Hoss or me who were killed?"

The question was like a punch to his gut, but it was not one that wholly took away his capability to speak. "I've already lost one of my sons." The words came with difficulty but he could not leave the challenge unanswered.

Ben saw it the moment the shutters came down in Joe's eyes, his stubborn nature and hot temper refusing to allow him to see reason. When Joe looked back over his shoulder at the house, Ben grabbed hold of his chin and forced him to meet his gaze again.

Joe swallowed a furious retort. "This was our home," he said in a raw voice that did not sound like his own. "Mine, and Alice's, and our baby's. We were supposed to be happy here." And wrenching himself from his father's grasp and turning unsteadily on his heel he stalked back to the waiting buckboard.


	3. Chapter 3

**"Alice, you've gotta promise me** you won't say anything to Clem when he comes to talk to you." Joe's voice was loud in the silence despite his near-whisper. Slowly, lovingly, his thumb stoked the flesh of her uninjured wrist where he held onto her, his head bent over hers. Looking up at him with bleary, strained eyes Alice could see how wan and exhausted he was, with the shadows under his eyes and two days' worth of stubble visible on his jaw. She had tired herself out with what she had so desperately tried to tell him and she was drifting off to sleep again. "Alice. Promise me."

There was an urgency to his voice that confused her. The tone of his words made her worry on a detached level that she could not hope to figure out now. Instead she merely nodded. Everything hurt and the leering faces of the men who had attacked her were still bright in her mind. Her brother. "Promise. John...?"

She always hoped that the gunshot that had ultimately ended her brother's life had merely been part of a nightmare that she would wake up from, but no matter how many times she surfaced into reality the waking was worse. Joe's fingers stroked her hair. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

She was, too.

John had exasperated and infuriated her so much at times with his insistent gambling and drinking but she had never wanted any harm to come to him, least of all actually seeing him dead. Sleep was growing too heavy to ignore and she couldn't keep her eyes open anymore.

Her husband's tepid green eyes were watchng her as she drifted off again, something akin to regret lining his mouth. "I'll be back, Alice. I may be gone for awhile but I promise I'll be back."

He waited until her breathing evened out and deepened. For a long moment he sat frozen in silence where he was bent over her, pondering what he was going to do next; then gently slapping his hand on his thigh, wincing slightly when his healing palm stung dully with pain, he doffed his hat and headed towards the door. Making sure his gunbelt was secured he left Paul's surgery and out the front door. He had the information he needed.

"Afternoon, Joe."

The familiar voice made him turn back before he stepped onto the road. "Candy."

He hadn't seen the Ponderosa's foreman since the other night and even then it had only been for a few moments; Candy was staying mainly at the ranch running the projects that the Cartwrights had neglected since the attack on Alice. But now Candy was leaning idly against one of the pillars of the building, watching the passing citizens on the roads of Virginia City.

Waiting for him.

"Where you heading to?"

Joe turned away from him again. "I don't see how that's any of your business." He stepped off the sidewalk to walk to the other side of the street but before he could Candy opened his mouth again.

"It's not my personal business, no, but as you are my boss I am obligated to make sure that you're not gonna do anything that'll endanger the business."

Temper flaring, Joe spun around. "You-"

"Oh, I've got your attention now then, huh? Good. Look, Joe, I just want to be there before you make any fast decisions. And you are my boss, Boss- if somethin' happens to the boss, there goes my employment."

"I can take care of myself, thanks." That was the way it was with Candy Canaday- he hid his true concerns and appreciations behind wisecrack remarks so that a 'body had to read between the lines in order to understand his true meaning. It had been disconcerting at first but all of the Cartwrights had learned to take Candy exactly as he was. "Did my pa send you after me?"

"No," came the reply, and when there was no shifting of feet or uneasy eye movement Joe knew he wasn't lying. "Bit too old to be followed around on your pa's orders, aren't you, Joe?"

"Evidently you don't know Ben Cartwright." He knew that he had concerned and perhaps even angered his father by their argument beside the burnt out house but faint guilt did nothing to deter him from the goal at hand. Alice had finally managed to speak to him about the men who attacked her, and now he was one step closer to finding them. He heard Candy step into line behind him and Joe very nearly snapped something rude at him before he bit his tongue.

He could trust Candy.

He went to several different places, the saloons, the livery stables, the hotels. No one could tell him anything about a group of men who could have passed through. Finally Joe turned to the small cafes that littered the city.

Daisy's Diner had been a staple in Virginia City for several years now, and Joe was an old friend of Daisy herself, a heavier-set woman with honey blonde hair and a plump, kind face. She hadn't changed hardly at all since he'd helped her marry her husband Claude, and as she looked up from the bar she smiled.

"Little Joe Cartwright!" she exclaimed. Behind him Joe could hear Candy snicker at the use of the old nickname, a moniker that never failed to amuse the wiry foreman. He allowed her to embrace him and he kissed her cheek like he always had, and for a moment Joe felt like he was twenty-two again. But he saw the sympathy in her bright blue eyes and abruptly everything fell into place again. "Heard about what happened to Alice. I'm awful sorry, Little Joe."

"I'm not here for a social visit, Daisy."

She nodded. "I didn't think you were. Give me a moment, I'll fetch us a pot of coffee- you look like you could use some. Afternoon, Candy."

"'Lo, Daisy."

Joe and Candy seated themselves at one of the tables in the far corner, setting their hats down as she came back with the coffee and cups. Joe had always enjoyed her coffee- she never brewed it too strong or too weak- but today it tasted like dirt in his mouth. He downed it anyway because it was either that or sleep for hours that he didn't have. "A group of four men came through town here about three days ago. One wore his hair long and was wearing a grey suit, called himself Damion. Another was a man called Mr. Hanley. Did you see anyone stop in here who fit those descriptions?"

Daisy frowned, concerned by the questions. She could guess why Joe was asking her the questions to begin with and for a moment she was tempted to deny any knowledge about the men he was asking her about. But she had been friends with him far too long to lie. "There were fellas stopped by a couple of mornings ago, one wearing a grey suit. Heard one of the others call him Damion. Ordered coffee. The one ordered steak and eggs."

Joe straightened in his seat, his interest piqued. "Did they say anything loud enough for you to overhear? Anything that maybe seemed odd?"

Daisy shook her head. "No. I'm sorry, Little Joe, I wasn't payin' much attention to them that morning. They came in during the morning bustle, the five of them."

"Five." The statement was flat. Candy looked over at his friend in mounting trepidation, recognizing the danger in Joe's voice and the look in his eyes.

Too late Daisy realized the mistake she had made deciding to talk to him about the men and she glanced over at Candy as if in search for help. When there was no help to be found she swallowed and answered, "One of them was John Harper."

Joe stood from the table as if burned, knocking over the empty cup in front of him. "Thank you, Daisy." Without another word he turned and headed for the door. Taken aback by his abrupt departure Candy spared an apologetic glance for the surprised Daisy before following Joe outside.

"Joe. Hey, Joe! Wait up!" The familiar green jacket he wore was already half way across amongst the crowd, heading for the livery stables. Sense was beginning to spring from confusion and it did nothing to settle the uneasiness roiling in Candy's gut. He had to run to catch up with his friend but just as he approached, Joe swung to face him.

"Get back to the Ponderosa, Candy. I don't need you along."

"Didn't we just do this a few minutes ago?" He meant it as a quip but his smile was forced and it faltered entirely when Joe's glower didn't do so much as waver. He grabbed hold of Joe's elbow and swung him around when he tried to leave. "C'mon, Joe, this ain't like you. You barely left Alice's side the past few days and now all of a sudden you're goin' on a rampage. You got Alice to tell you about that- that day, didn't you?" He wasn't really all that surprised it had taken this long- she had been unconscious for quite some time and then Doc Martin had kept her sedated to prevent her undue stress. Lately she'd been stirring, though, giving the doctor hope about her chances, her moments of lucidity proving longer and longer for every repeat performance. If she had happened to wake up with enough strength to speak about the attack on her then there was no chance that her husband didn't know about it.

"What do you think, Candy?" It was a sarcastic, biting reply, one that Candy would have likely belted him in the mouth for if he hadn't known how much stress Joe was under. "Let me go."

"Not until you tell me where you're goin'."

"I'm still your boss and I can order you to stay at the Ponderosa."

"Not if I don't quit first-"

"Joe!"

Jamie's voice broke through the growing tension between the two men, and they turned as one to find the redheaded teen trotting towards them on his flaxen-maned mare. He stopped beside them without dismounting. "Joe, Pa wants you to come on up to the house. Says you gotta talk about livin' arrangements for when we bring Alice home."

Joe looked up at his younger brother for a long, silent moment. He had never directly disobeyed one of his father's requests- he respected Ben Cartwright far too much for that- but his reply startled both Jamie and Candy. "You got your canteen with you, Jamie?"

"Yeah, but what's that gotta do with-?"

"Give it here." Joe beckoned with his left hand for Jamie to do as ordered. Nonplussed, the redhead glanced at Candy and noticed the resigned look on the foreman's face. He hesitated.

"Joe-"

"Now, Jamie." It was very rare that Joe grew angry enough that his voice softened rather than strengthened, so very like his father. He may have always had his mother's fine features and untamable personality but there were times when Joe Cartwright was the spitting image of his father, and in those moments it was impossible to argue with him. Jamie handed the canteen over without another word. Silently they watched as Joe checked to make sure that it was full. Satisfied that it was, he turned on his heel and headed into the livery. Minutes later he walked back into view leading a saddled bay mare complete with saddlebags, blanket, an extra canteen, and- most telling- a Sharps rifle in its holster.

"Where you goin', Joe?" Taken aback, Jamie stared first at the horse and then at his older brother.

"Tell Pa I won't be comin' home for dinner tonight. Or any night for the next few days."

Candy strode forward, angry. "What the hell do you think you're doin', Cartwright? You can't go after those men with Alice hurt the way she is-"

"That's precisely why I'm goin' after those men, Candy: because she's hurt the way she is. Alice told me they took my mother's music box and the necklace in it before they set the house on fire. Look out for both of them in case they pawned them off somewhere close by."

"You can't just leave like this, Joe!" Jamie exclaimed, dismounting. "Alice-"

"Is in capable enough hands for now." Placing his foot in the stirrup, Joe swung up into the saddle, thereby placing himself out of Candy's grip.

"Where are you going?" Candy ground out, cursing the inherent Cartwright stubbornness. 'Worse than a mule-headed ox with an empty head,' Hoss had often said to describe his brother's tenacious personality, most often said in exasperation. Right now the Ponderosa's foreman understood that sentiment exactly.

"Dunno yet. I'll send you a wire when I find out anything." Kicking his mount into a swift trot he rounded the corner of the livery and was gone. Just like that. Standing with his mouth open, the redheaded boy turned helplessly to the equally stunned Candy.

"What am I gonna tell Pa?"

Candy blew out a breath and threw up his hands in silent frustration. His fury had not abated; rather, it had only grown seeing his friend ride away without even a glance back. His friend, who had just left behind his injured wife to find and kill the men who had attacked her.

"The more important question, Jamie," he finally answered heavily, "is what are we gonna tell _Alice_?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Joe. Where was Joe?** In pain and sensing that she was alone, Alice fought her way back to consciousness. It was too quiet. She had never cared for the silence. It was too intimidating, far too dangerous. In the silence her fears and imagination ran amock. Living out on the Ponderosa had been jarring and even overwhelming to her at first, having been born and bred in the bustling city, but very quickly she had learned that the mountains weren't silent. They merely made different sounds. The wind rustled through the pines like a whisper and it had amazed her the first time she had realized she could tilt her head and hear the different tones the breeze made. The brooks gurgled in a soothing way, and late in the evening insects chirped a song. Even if she did startle- she would never forget the time a black bear came wandering by the house in search for food when they were in bed- Joe was there.

"He ain't lookin' for much," he had told her softly that night. She could remember the fond smile on his face as he moved the curtain a little farther back from the window. The bear's black coat blended almost perfectly into the surrounding inky darkness of the high mountain nights, glistening a greyish-blue when the moonlight hit it. Despite herself Alice leaned forward until her nose was very nearly out the window, curious now that her initial fear had passed. "He's lookin' for food for the winter." They watched the bear as it used one massive paw to dig at the roots of one of the pine trees, its snuffling and grunting clear to be heard by its watching audience of two.

"It's not winter yet, it won't be for a few months yet."

"Doesn't matter to him. Bears hibernate when it gets too cold out so he's gotta put on as much weight as possible so he can last the winter."

"If he doesn't find enough- you're saying he might die?" Startled and strangely saddened by the fact Alice glanced at her husband.

Joe nodded. "Yeah. There was a winter when I was, oh, sixteen? Seventeen? I was out with Hoss in the early spring roundin' up strays and we came across a she-bear that had died. Frozen solid. Hoss said it was likely that she hadn't found enough to eat in the fall and when she was forced to go out looking for somethin' to eat the cold killed her. She was pretty skinny."

"Poor thing," she murmured, turning to look back at the black bear.

Joe played with a lock of her long brown hair. "It was a grizzly she-bear, so don't go feelin' too sorry, sweetheart."

"Are grizzly bears bad?"

He snorted. "Bad? Alice, if you come across a grizzly your only hope is to pray. A black bear isn't gonna go after you unless you pin it down. A grizzly isn't going to need a reason to attack."

"Oh." Well, there went her feelings of security of traveling anywhere alone. Still, to be starving and then freezing to death... she still felt sorry for the poor she-bear. They watched until the black bear finished with its search and ambled away, and then Alice turned her attention to the sky. The splash of stars shining so closely never failed to amaze her.

Joe followed her gaze. She could feel his body heat against him and she leaned back against his chest. "Orion is just over that ridge there," he murmured in her ear.

"Who?"

He pointed out the window, his breath tickling her cheek. "See that band of three bright stars there? That's Orion's belt. If you look closely you can see the rest of him crouching there."

It took her a moment. Then she smiled. "I see him," she said. "Who taught you about the stars, Joe? It couldn't have been in school."

He grinned and shook his head. "My pa taught me to navigate using them. Says the north star is the perfect thing to get your bearings if you lose your way. It was my brother Adam who taught me the different constellations and the stories behind them. Did you know Orion was a southpaw?"

"That explains why you like him so much," Alice teased him gently. They had gone back to sleep fairly quickly after that, and Alice had pulled his arm tighter around her and smiled into the pillow beneath her head.

She was in an unfamiliar room when she finally managed to open her eyes. Everything ached. Her face felt tight and still slightly swollen, and the pain from her sides even with the help of medication told her she was in serious trouble. She could recall the raw fear in Joe's voice when she had first been found by their house and she wondered where he was.

"Joe?"

No answer. Growing agitated she tried to shift and groaned when her stomach flared with its own pain. Her eyes flew open and her unbandaged hand flew to her midriff. She could remember the one man, Mr. Hanley, his fists harsh and brutal after he caught hold of her.

She'd broken the window. She'd heard the lock being forced on the bedroom door and when she couldn't force the window up she'd grabbed the nearest heavy object she could find- in her panic she couldn't even remember what that had been now- and broken the glass. Its shards had sliced her palms and skirts as she climbed through, but she'd been just a second too slow; Mr. Hanley's gloved hands had managed to snag hold of her dress and trip her up just enough. She'd run with the music box clutched in her arms but she'd had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The brute had caught her, and she didn't know why she was still alive.

The baby. Something had happened to the baby. She knew it instinctively, a premonition of sorts, and the fear of the unknown dulled the agony of her physical wounds. "Joe!"

The door opened, letting in the warm yellow light of gas-lit lamps, but it wasn't Joe who entered the room. "Alice!" Ben exclaimed, hurrying forward. Gently he grabbed her shoulders and lowered her back onto the bed. "Goodness, girl, you have as good a timing as Joseph when it comes to waking up- Paul! Paul, come here!"

"The baby," Alice pleaded frantically, grasping at his shirt sleeves. "The baby, what's happened to my baby?"

His moment of floundering silence was more than enough answer, telling her exactly what she needed to know. "Alice-" Ben Cartwright was not a man who could be driven to speechlessness easily, but he was there now.

Tears burned her eyes; her fingers dug into his elbows with surprising strength. "It's dead, isn't it? They killed my baby." Her voice broke on the word 'killed'.

She had never seen Joe's father look so old.

She felt empty. Drained. For years she had dreaded the thought of being a mother since watching her own whither away in a loveless marriage, but finding Joe had been her hope. Her husband wasn't capable of being the cold, distant man that Alice's father was, and when she had told Joe of her pregnancy the unbridled joy on his face had finally put to rest any lingering misgivings she had had.

But now there was no baby. No child to hold, or see grow into a young adult she and Joe could love and be proud of.

Ben had been prepared for an emotional breakdown from the young woman, he expected tears and denials, pleadings for her loss to not be true. But just as quickly as her eyes brightened with unshed tears her expression dulled and her fingers loosened their grip on his arms. Her head lulled to one side. For one awful, terrifying moment, he feared the shock of the news had been too much. "Paul!"

The doctor checked her vitals and had her drink a sleeping powder he mixed in a glass of water. When he made sure her stitches had not been torn Paul looked over at Ben. "What happened?"

"She found out about the baby."

"Ben, she's still too weak to have something so traumatic said to her! You saw yourself how quickly she slid into shock, in her condition it could have killed her-"

"She already knew, Paul. I couldn't lie to her." Guilt tore at him despite his reply because his confirming her questions had only made it worse. A quick recovery counted on two things: the patient's natural constitution, and their mental outlook. Too often Ben had heard of a sick man or woman simply losing their will to live if they had lost someone dear to them. And Alice was such a small, waif-like woman. "She asked for Joe."

Paul's mouth thinned. "That boy should have more sense than to have left when he did." They had both been taken aback when Jamie and Candy had entered the building with uneasy looks on their faces, and it had been the boy who had had to tell Ben exactly where Joe had disappeared to. The reaction of the eldest Cartwright had not been pleasant. Paul hadn't heard his old friend lose his temper that badly in several years.

Most telling of Ben's opinion of Joe's leaving was his lack of speaking aloud now. The old rancher was often vocal about his sons' choices, both the good and the bad, and he never allowed any of them that they had been raised as upright, honorable men. Joe's leaving to go after Alice's attackers was almost a betrayal.

Ben waited until Paul assured him that Alice would be sleeping for the rest of the night and then, exhausted and heartsick, he left the room for a moment to regain his bearings. He had been in one of the other rooms looking for some more supplies for Paul when he'd heard his daughter-in-law's calls. Jamie, he noticed with a guilty jolt to his gut, was seated in the main waiting room with his head bent over his steepled fingers. He had been ignoring the boy these past few days by focusing his attention on Joe and Alice, and that was unfair.

"Pa?"

Ben took a deep breath and approached his youngest son. The only one I have left standing beside me, he thought sadly. Adam had long been gone from the soil of the Ponderosa, his wanderlust leading him along different paths; Joe was out now who-knew-where; and Hoss... Hoss's loss was still too painful to long ponder. "Yes, son?"

Jamie's face was miserable as he looked up at him. "Joe's gonna come back, ain't he? I mean, he can't just leave Alice like this by herself."

Ben crouched down in front of him, his knees and ankles creaking as he did so. "No," he said heavily. "No, Jamie, I don't think that any of us are going to see your brother for quite some time."

"He's goin' after those men, ain't he?" It was a rhetorical question- Jamie had seen Joe leave after all- but Ben nodded anyway. The boy shook his head. "But... that's good, ain't it? They have to be found and brought in, don't they?"

"I wouldn't be so concerned for Joseph, Jamie, if I thought that that was what he is planning to do." Ben knew how much the boy looked up to and admired his older brother, but he was also aware of how that had blinded Jamie to a lot of Joe's less commendable traits. From the way horrified understanding abruptly made the boy's face fall he knew his reply had torn away those blinders.

"He can't just go out and kill them," he protested weakly. "That'd be wrong! And it could get Joe into a load of trouble, too!"

Ben swallowed hard. He didn't want to be having this discussion, he didn't want to be feeling the doubt that was pounding in his stomach, but he couldn't simply ignore the boy. "You're right, son, it is wrong to seek vengeance. Those men need to be brought in for a fair trial. When they're found guilty then, and only then, should they be punished."

"Innocent until proven guilty."

"Precisely. But more important than that, much more important, it will be worse for Joe to break God's Law than Man's Law. 'Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord.' Your brother has matured in the past few years, Jamie, and he's intelligent. But he has always been hot-blooded, prone to acting before thinking things through. He won't come back home until that has passed and he's able to think again." Ben sighed and shook his head, clasping the boy's elbow. "I'm sorry, Jamie. I've left you to fend for yourself the past few days and that's been wrong of me."

Jamie shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. "I'm not mad about it, Pa. I understand. 'Sides, I got used to fending for myself when my pa died."

It wasn't often that the boy spoke about his dead parents. Ben found he had no remark he could make any type of appropriate response to that and instead settled for the easy route out. "C'mon, son, you need to head back to the ranch for tonight-"

"I want to stay and help, Pa. You can't stay up all night watching Alice by yourself. 'Sides, this way I'll be close to school for the morning."

Ben couldn't help but grin. "You've thought this through, haven't you, Jamie?" He could have fought his son harder but he felt suddenly heartened by the boy's determination enough to pull him into an embrace. "I'll be happy to have you here tonight. Go on into the room to watch over Alice for me for an hour or so, all right? I'll be back to give you a break shortly."

"Thanks, Pa." Jamie spared a moment to smile widely at Ben and then he was up and moving to the other room. Ben watched him go and pulled himself to his feet. The rest of his sons may have been absent in one way or another but he reminded himself now with a soft smile that Jamie was a Cartwright in every way that mattered.

 **"Are you, uh, doing all right, Alice?"**

Jamie's timid question made her startle and the movement caused her ribs to flare with pain again. The doctor had told her that she was lucky to have only one rib broken but she hadn't been able to help the bitter smile that had forced its way onto her face. It seemed to her that she was lucky to even be alive.

"Well as I can be, I guess," she answered after a long moment. Which wasn't really all that well if she was going to be completely honest with herself. The death of her little baby- a girl, Paul Martin had admitted- the attack, her brother dying... sometimes it was all so overwhelming that it felt like she couldn't breathe. And it had only been a week since it had all happened.

Her father-in-law had consented to take her to the Ponderosa to recuperate just the day before. Alice was familiar with and loved the beautiful ranch house but its strong walls and warm fireplace brought her no comfort now; it wasn't the little yellow house that Joe had built for her. She settled into the room on the first floor- Ben was careful to not call it a guest room although she knew that that was what it was- and just as she had been in the doctor's hands she was bade to stay in the bed and rest. Which wasn't an order she would find that easy to break, really, what with her wrapped midriff and ankle and her ribs.

"Can I get you anything?"

It made it really hard to do things on her own.

"No, but thank you, Jamie." She tried to sound more than listless but it was hard. The boy didn't deserve to be treated poorly and he certainly didn't need to be on the receiving end of her lack of manners, either. It was lonely in this room and all of the books Ben owned on his bookshelf weren't enough to keep her occupied forever.

Joe was gone. She hadn't seen him since the morning she had told him of the man who had attacked her and no one could or would give her a straight answer as to why. All she could remember was the raw pain and fury in his eyes as he told her he loved her and that he would see her again soon, and then he was gone. His absence hurt her almost as much as the loss of her baby, leaving her bewildered and hurt and with no idea of how she was supposed to heal from what had happened.

Her husband's absence struck her anew. Tears stung her eyes. "Jamie?" she called out suddenly, hoping the boy hadn't managed to walk too far away yet.

He hadn't. "Yeah, Alice?" He seemed almost relieved that she had something for him to do.

"Would you grab something for me? Go up to Joe's old room and bring something down here."

The boy was taken aback by what she had requested but he didn't ask questions; he left without comment and when he came back down in was done in silence as well. Alice waited until the boy left before she unraveled the salmon-colored shirt he had found. Holding it close she breathed in its scent: fresh pine, horses, and a hint of bay rum. It was so uniquely Joe that she immediately felt her nerves settle. His skin held that smell permanently, it seemed, or so it appeared from their nights together. She decided that if she couldn't have Joe himself here then she would take the next best thing.

And more power to him when he came home and wanted his shirt back. "Just be glad it's not a pair of your long-johns," she murmured to herself, coloring even as she said it. Good Lord, even his sense of humor was rubbing off on her. But she smiled for the first time in days imagining what his reaction would be to that sentence.

No doubt he would find some way of showing her the long-johns he was actually wearing. And he would still find some way of sneaking his shirt back.

Draping the shirt over her like a blanket, Alice settled back into her pillows and pulled it up to her nose. "Come back soon," she whispered. The wind was gently swaying the pines back and forth outside the window and she watched them dance for awhile before finally drifting off to sleep again.


	5. Chapter 5

**She woke to the sound of the front door** opening and closing with a decisive bang, making her jump. She heard Ben and he did not sound pleased. "Clem, I realize that you want to write out a report about this but Alice is still recovering, you can't-"

"The longer I wait, Ben, the farther those responsible are going to get." Footsteps came closer and then the sheriff of Virginia City came into view with Joe's father hovering over his shoulder, looking annoyed. "Mrs. Cartwright? I am sorry to trouble you right now but I have some questions to ask you."

Joe had also asked her to keep quiet about what she had told him. Torn between loyalty to her husband and her respect for the law she floundered for a moment. She could see Ben gazing at her with a mix of concern and encouragement and ultimately guilt made her waver. "Come in." She was decently covered in the bed but she still felt shy and indecent when the sheriff moved forward with his hat in his hands, and she pulled the quilt farther up to her chin.

"Mrs. Cartwright-"

Alice shuddered as memory imposed over waking reality. "Don't- call me that, Sheriff. Please. Just Alice will do."

Clem shared a swift, concerned look with Joe's father before pulling up one of the chairs and sitting beside the bed. "All right," he said. "Alice. I realize that you are still recovering from the attack on you and your house, but I need to know what happened there. I need to know who they were so they can be punished."

"I don't know who they are," she blurted out without thought. She had never been a convincing liar but she willed her face not to redden and she made sure to keep steady eye contact with Sheriff Foster. That was one of the clearest signs of a lie after all, wasn't it? Not making eye contact?

Clem hummed doubtfully, clearly unconvinced by her attempt to deflect his questions. "Joe told me that the body we found in the ashes of your house was John Harper. Your brother."

She felt the information hit her like a physical blow. "Joe's been to see you?" she asked breathlessly, trying to cover up her sudden agitation.

"Two days after they brought you to Doc Martin's, yes. But I don't see him here now. In fact, I haven't seen him at all the past couple of days, and it seems like Cochise is still in her stall. Do you know where he is?"

He knows, Alice thought in sudden panic, her hands clenched into fists underneath the quilt. "No," she answered shortly. At least that wasn't a lie, not entirely.

Clem leaned forward. "Alice, I'm here to help you but I can't do that unless you tell me as much as you can."

"I don't know anything," she said in a trembling voice. "I can't help you."

Her stubborn refusal to speak about the circumstances of her injuries took him aback. "Not even to tell me how your brother died?"

The agony on John's face as he'd slipped to the floor with a bullet in his gut made her flinch. Abruptly she was angry. "Please leave."

"Alice-" This time it was Ben who tried to appeal to her but not even Joe's father could override her sudden flare of temper.

"Leave. Both of you." She stared down at her lap trying to control her trembling and she didn't look back up again until she heard the sheriff's low noise of dissatisfaction and the chair creaking under his weight as he stood.

"I'll be back in a day or so, Ben." The look of frustration on Clem's face as he and Ben made their way out to the front door was readily apparent. Impatiently he slapped his hat against his leg, pitching his voice low as he continued. "She knows everything I need to find out in order to go after the men who did this to her. It seems, though, that your son is already ahead of me."

Ben straightened, squaring his shoulders against the veiled jab at Joe. "Sheriff, you'd do better to remember that you are in my home insinuating that my son is capable of murder-"

"Is he?" Clem asked coolly; his blue eyes were calculating as he looked the aging rancher in the eyes.

"No," Ben lied.

Clem shook his head, unimpressed. The lie was convincing but he could see the fear in Ben's eyes and that gave him all the answer he needed. "You know, Ben, I've been in this town for quite a few years now. I've seen plenty of crimes. Put away plenty of men and seen just as many hanged. And there's one thing I've found throughout all of that: anybody is capable of murder given the right circumstances." Doffing his hat he opened the door to leave. "I'll be seeing you, Ben. Have a good night."

The farewell was significantly chillier that what was the norm for Virginia City's sheriff but Ben could hardly bring himself to utter an answering goodbye. Shaken and unaccountably angered by Clem's departing words he stood in indecisive silence for a long moment; then he scowled. He was in agreement with Clem however much he didn't want to be- Alice knew more than she was willing to tell anyone. How could he have a pleasant evening? Alice was still terribly injured and somewhat in shock if the still-dazed look in her eyes was any indication, and Joe was out in the wilderness somewhere far from reach or help. Suddenly heartsick he turned towards the stairwell and holding onto the banister walked slowly up to the second floor. Joe's bedroom door was closed as it had been since the day he had moved out of the Ponderosa's ranch house but most of the interior was undisturbed. The dime novels that Joe had loved to read were intermingled with other meatier stories including (he had been surprised to find) Adam's old copy of Paradise Lost on the handsome oak bookshelf; the clothes he kept as extras here had been saved from the fire and were nestled in their drawers; the bed was neatly made, the pillows unruffled.

Ben was not a man often prone to ruminating too heavily on the past; he had learned through harsh experience that he could only look forward, and nothing could be changed about what had already happened. He never forgot but he didn't try to wish something into existence. But he wanted to now. Oh, so badly. He wanted Adam to come home from his journeying in Australia, he wanted Hoss to be alive and well and not buried beside the lake, he wanted the laughter of his three sons to reverberate through the aging house like it hadn't in nearly nine years. He wanted Alice to be safe and well; and most of all he wanted the baby to still be alive.

Stopping at the bookshelf again he stood for a long moment staring down at the two portraits that Joe had placed there. One was an old daguerreotype that a much younger Adam and Hoss and Little Joe had taken shortly before the eldest had left on his travels. The other was Hoss caught in the middle of a laugh, his familiar gaped-tooth smile broad on his face. Of all of Ben's sons Inger's had been the one to shy away from any type of spotlight, and so he had decided to surprise his family with a portrait. Three weeks later he went on a cattle drive that he would never come back from... not in the way that mattered.

Gently he laid a hand on Hoss's picture and then he turned and left the room as if he had never gone in to begin with.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs he pondered for a moment and then made his way across the room to the open door where Alice still rested. Looking in, he saw she was still awake. In a week's time the swelling in her face had gone down to practically nothing but the bruises that mottled her skin were still angry looking, and she couldn't breathe easily with her ribs in the state that thy were in. Her stomach was still heavily bandaged and Paul had already said that the stitches would remain for a while longer still.

He didn't even want to imagine what the loss of the baby had done to her mentally and emotionally.

"Alice?"

She had been lost in thought; looking up she met his gaze with wounded, frightened eyes. She smoothed the pain away quickly enough seeing him but it was still too slow to hide from him.

"May I come in?"

She hesitated for the briefest moment again, reluctant to give her permission like she had for Clem, but eventually her manners made her nod. "Yes." She said nothing more and turned her attention back to the shirt she had pulled up to her chest as Ben silently walked in and seated himself in the chair Clem had recently vacated. For a long moment an almost uncomfortable quiet descended between them, neither entirely sure what to do or say.

"Alice," Ben finally said carefully, crossing his legs and rubbing a hand down his thigh. "I don't mean to upset you- and Clem did not mean to do so either-"

"I saw my brother shot, Ben," she interrupted him, being very careful to keep her eyes solely on the salmon-colored shirt in her hands. "John is dead, and you don't think I wouldn't be upset talking about it?"

"I'm sorry." Ben was not normally so unable to find a response but it took him awhile to speak in the presence of her heartbreak. Necessity forced him to continue. "But you do know things that will need to be told to Clem. Don't you? You can and you have described the men who did this to you already."

She looked up sharply. "How do you-?"

His gaze was steady. "I know my son, Alice." He leaned forward. "It is not a crime to withhold information from the law if you were the one the crime was done to. But if you do not say anything, then those guilty of it will not be brought to justice."

Tears were shining in her eyes. "I promised I wouldn't say anything," she whispered. "I promised."

He didn't have to guess who she had promised that to. Abruptly Ben felt something begin to stir deep in his gut that he hadn't felt for any of his sons in a very long time: disgust. So Joseph wanted his wife to keep quiet about what happened- all so he could reach the attackers first. Unable to stay seated in the wake of this realization Ben pulled himself to his feet and looked down at her. "Alice, as a father I always told my boys that they could keep a secret if it wasn't immoral, a danger to somebody, or illegal. And I believe that the promise that Joseph has asked you to keep is two of those- and is one that will lead him to fulfilling the third. Think on that. Clem will be back to ask you again." So saying he turned and left the room.

Candy was standing by his desk when he walked into the living room. "Saw Clem ride out," he said quietly. "Came to talk to Alice?"

Ben nodded. Anger was still pulsing behind his eyes and he felt he couldn't say anything without shouting. Gripping the back of the chair by the desk he stood in silence for close to a full minute before he opened his mouth. "He didn't manage to learn anything."

Candy sighed, his hands resting on his hips. He shook his head. "You want me to go after Joe?"

There was nothing more he wanted than to give the Ponderosa's foreman permission to do exactly that. He seated himself at the desk and looked up at him. "No."

"Mr. Cartwright-"

It wasn't often that Candy referred to him by his last name anymore. "Candy, Joseph is my son and I know him. However much I want to go after him myself, by doing so I would only push him away more. We must have faith in him to come back home in his own terms."

Faith in Joseph, yes, Ben had to have that. Faith that he had truly learned his lessons about murder and revenge. But more than that Ben had to cling to the faith he himself had in God. Faith that the Father would be in control of everything that was to come like no one else ever could be.

 **Damion's gang was far ahead of Joe,** but he was slowly gaining on them. Days of riding with very few stops allowed the trail to remain at least partially fresh, and although most of the signs of their traveling had disappeared there were clues that he could find nonetheless that let him know which ways to turn.

He would catch up with the men who had hurt his wife and killed their child, and God help them when he did.

Maybe He would help them. The Lord had done nothing for Joe in his life. The close calls, the times when he had survived accidents both Pa and Doc Martin labelled miracles... luck. That was all it was. Simple dumb luck had kept him alive all these years. God helped those willing to take what they wanted, and He didn't punish those who deserved it.

God had taken Joe's mother. He had allowed Hoss to die. Adam had left and was never coming back.

The Lord had allowed Alice to be beaten, and they had lost their child because of it.

His pa could have his merciful, forgiving God. Joe wanted nothing to do with Him.

Milton had said it best, after all. Glancing up at the sky and the dark grey clouds far above him, he murmured, "Better to rule in Hell than serve in Heaven."


End file.
